


Grey

by ocjones



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), One Shot, POV Kylo Ren, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 10:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocjones/pseuds/ocjones
Summary: "As long as we fight we cannot be free."He tells her this without thinking.It's all Rey can think about.





	Grey

He expects peace from their bond after Snoke's death. Peace. He knows the dark side too well to believe it. _Peace is a lie. There is only passion_.

It's less controlled than ever now. One moment he's alone and then he sees her rewiring something, leaving his throne room with the scent of solder and a few sparks. In a discussion with his underlings, one mentions the Rebellion and he hears her hiss, _Monster_. And he pops into her world, when she's meditating, when she's sparring. They come together more easily, but whatever keeps them together is equally flimsy and unstable, and a simple swat of his mind or hers can break it at once.

One night, he's in his bed, somnolent and half-asleep, when he feels a _weight_ next to him. He turns his head and sees her on her back in simpler garb, an X-shaped binding that barely covers her breasts and flimsy shorts. He can't say it's _unexpected—_ it's all too random to be anything else—but god, this is...

“Oh,” she says simply, softly.

Kylo is frozen for a moment. He can't let his thoughts out, and if he moves he might touch her, and he wants to fucking touch her badly, but he can't bring himself to break this connection. Not this time. Not when she's like this. Not when he could flip in one move and be on top of her body. He's silent, staring at her.

She looks at the ceiling, and his head moves, too. There's a window cut into the ceiling of his flagship so he can see the stars. Briefly, her world—a view of the stars from whatever planet she's on—covers his, but she quickly swipes it away before he can memorize it. Because then he could find her. She curses and almost slips away, almost, but his hand slides onto her arm.

“Don't,” he whispers. “Don't, Rey.”

It's been so easy to break free that he feels her actively working to stay there, but she manages it.

For the first time since Snoke's death, he dares to press into her thoughts a little. Rey hasn't been able to stop thinking about her vision of...not him. It's his old self. Ben Solo. She's so little compared to him, but she views him from above. He turns and his face is graced with the light, his hair glazed with sunshine, his eyes caramel in the heat. He is beautiful.

He rejects it—but no, that's the feeling behind it. She thinks he is beautiful. That's why her vision feels like that. His whole body suffuses with heat, and it swirls into his own thoughts, his own premonition. He sees her, warrior, empress, ruler, fighter, _everything_. She is the crown of his whole empire. She is his. She exhales hard.

“You could have everything,” he seethes, “and you limit yourself to the light.”

“And so could you,” she replies.

He is both painfully honest and not entirely truthful when he tells her, “You're the only thing I want, Rey.”

Rey slips away then, but not all of her. Kylo can smell her in the sheets.

She smells like the sun.

Like the light. 

* * *

It's almost as difficult to keep her after that. She's twice as careful not to show him any of her surroundings when she's in his world, and she tries—not always successfully—to hide telling signs in her own. But he, like she, can add new threads to their connection. It's still weak, but it used to pop like a bubble. Not anymore.

“Why does this happen at all?” he asks one day, when she's in his office. “Why do you come?”

“Why do _you_?” she counters.

He tilts his head. “You often appear after I think of you. I must appear when you think of me.”

Her mouth twists.

He sits next to her. He can't ever get enough of seeing her face, but this is nice too. “You should be by my side,” he tells her softly.

“I am,” she quips. He rolls his eyes.

“You feel it too,” he murmurs. The Force seems... _pleased_ when they're together. It feels like a mirror, like water, like something endless and echoing.

She looks away with bitterness. For all her light, there is so much dark in her. Anger and fear and hatred and—

“How do I know you mean any of it?” she demands. “How do I know you're not lying? That this isn't just you manipulating the Force?”

“You _know_ ,” he urges. “You know because you can feel it. Feel the truth of it.”

“I knew the truth of my vision—”

“ _My_ vision was true.”

“So was mine!”

“Do you think I can turn to the light?” he demands. “Do you think a _monster_ like me can be good and pure?” He's so furious that around them, the Force is _shaking_. It blows a bit of Rey's hair away from her face. A face that's just as angry as his.

“I saw it happening, _Ben Solo_. I saw the good in you. I see it still.”

“You're—”

It's not the Force that's shaking this time. It's Rey. Wherever she is is under attack. Her face is incredulous, yet knowing: wounded, angry. “How could you?” she seethes.

“I would never let them hurt you!”

“Oh, just my friends, then?” She stands and her opaqueness starts to fade, and he grabs her hand instinctively.

Everything around them swells, and that tenuous bond becomes firmer, clearer.

For a moment, he sees everything, and so does she. She can't leave because it's not safe—but she must leave, because it's not safe. As much as Rey is _here_ with him, she is still also _there_. But everything is peaceful. Too peaceful. With her hand in his, the Force, her thoughts, his thoughts: they're all one, and it is perfect.

Then there's another quake, wherever she is, and she slips out of the bond. His gloved hand closes uselessly on nothing.

The First Order has squadrons all over the galaxy. To call off the attack of every one is well within his power, but it will do no good now. Not since one group has already found the Rebellion, and they all have standing orders to destroy it. To take no prisoners, minus one brunette girl. Kylo sinks to his knees and vows to stay awake until he feels the tension in their bond dissipate. To make sure she hasn't died.

If that is what only half of a bond feels like—if this is what it feels like when they're _fighting_ it—Rey has to join him.

No matter what.

* * *

It is days until she reappears. She's in his bed again, but she's fully clothed, covered in dirt and ash, deep lines under her eyes. There are no words for her exhaustion. Even the link between them feels weak. It must be the first time she's had a moment to lay down, to _think_.

Kylo Ren hasn't apologized in years and years. Not since he was that child. “Don't say it,” she retorts anyway. “It doesn't mean anything from you.”

“I never want you harmed. Never.”

“Shut up.”

“Feel the truth. You know I'm right.” She doesn't move. “I killed _Snoke_ for you. I killed the Supreme Leader just to keep you safe.”

Her eyes finally find his. “You're right,” she says softly. “You did. Thank you.”

“Anything.”

She curls in closer to him. He can count the freckles on her skin. “Before, when we really touched, when...”

“Yes.” It's not a question. “Do you want that again?”

She hesitates. But she nods.

“What if we...” he whispers. “What if we gave in for a moment? Let the bond be free, full?”

He can taste her hesitation through the bond as much as he can see it on her face. _Doesn't it hurt?_ he pleads with her, wordlessly. _Don't you feel the pain of resisting?_

She's so good; she's _too_ good; she can't lie to him, and she tells him, _Yes_.

_As long as we fight we will never be free._

She keeps looking at him. _Her eyes are the universe_ , he thinks dumbly.

He holds his palms aloft, facing her: it looks like surrender, but it's not. It's an invitation. She exhales and slowly mirrors him.

One hand.

Then the other.

Between them, the Force whirs and hums and _sings_.

There they are again in their visions, those damned visions that feel so true. There's Rey by his side and there's Ren in the light. Their hands are clasping in the hut on Ahch-To, clasping forever, while they live and while they're apart ( _they should never be apart_ ) and after they die. Their shared vision drifts to them together: no clear images, only feelings, only the heat and the desire and desperation both have been trying not to share. He feels it twice over, once through the Force and once through their link, his own desire _and_ hers. It _burns_. It scalds him with its intensity. It is base, but not lewd. Honest, not ashamed. Across from him, Rey licks her lips and Kylo, weak pathetic Kylo, groans when he sees it. He can feel her tongue on her own flesh. Against the background of his new knowledge, it's overwhelming. The little gasp he's made echoes between them as it arouses Rey, which arouses Ren, which arouses Rey, which—

_I need you._

_I need you._

_I need you._

Rey opens her eyes and looks at him and Kylo Ren is going to die if he can't touch her, if he can't make her _his_.

 _Ben_ , she pleads softly, in her beautiful voice.

_I am not Ben. That boy is dead._

_He's right across from me._

The Force between them is so overwhelming there are sparks and heat and waves of it blowing his hair away from his face, and that's what does it. Instinctively, through sheer desire, Rey reaches to brush it away, to tuck it behind his ear. It seems to ruin the connection between them, and she's gone.

Kylo pants hard, sweat dripping down his face, and he brushes his hair back himself and curses. 

* * *

This time, there is nothing, but oddly, it doesn't scare him. Their bond feels like an empty road: she might not be present, but it's there. Stronger. Rey must be keeping quiet, contemplating away from him. But he knows he hasn't scared her. Not this time. Before, looking for the star map, he could search her mind. She could search his. But hand in hand, he can read her heart. Taste her dreams. She isn't gone.

He considers calling for her first. On purpose this time.

He never gets the chance.

_Ben._

He turns and sees her and there she is, surroundings and all. There's a small ship behind her and he recognizes it's a one-person jumper from the Rebellion. She's left to keep them safe.

“Ben,” she says again.

There is that swell in his heart: he can't believe it. This can't be happening. But he doesn't know what else to think.

She reaches her hand out to him and lets go of her whole mind.

 _Come get me_. 

* * *

He goes in his personal ship, alone. The only person who can hurt him is her, and no guard in the world can protect him. Not now.

In a way, when he lowers the landing ramp and sees her, the reverse of when she left him on Crait, it's...less than he expects it to be. He has missed her, and he's waited to see her, but he _has_ been seeing her. This is a formality. They were always coming to this.

“I need to speak with you. Please.”

“You won't turn me,” he insists.

She shakes her head. “No,” she agrees, “I won't.”

Victory swells in his chest. He _knows_ he was right—his visions of her, they're all correct. He outstretches a hand to her, mirroring her call to him, and she walks up the ramp and looks. Hesitates. “I know what we need to do now,” she says, more to his glove than to him. “Promise me you'll listen to me, Ben. Promise.”

He doesn't want to. It would be wisest to try to overwhelm her mind and keep her safely aboard.

But when has he ever been able to deny Rey anything?

And so the emperor of the entire galaxy says to an orphaned scavenger from nowhere, earnestly, “I promise.” 

* * *

They sit across from each other. Behind her, the sun is setting. “I see the truth now,” she says.

“That you will join my side?”

“I...” She hesitates. A small spark of anger swells in him. “I didn't see how that could be possible. If one of our visions were correct, then they _both_ had to be correct.”

“I don't believe that.”

“I do.” She smiles and it's a wide, broken, glorious thing. “But _you gave me the answer_. You made me realize what's right.”

“Us together is right.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” But she doesn't move towards him. “We're _both_ wrong. The light, the dark. They need each other. Why do we believe we can't be both? What being is _all_ light or _all_ dark?”

Kylo shakes his head and regrets not simply putting her to sleep. “The call to the dark is too strong, Rey.”

“If that were true you wouldn't feel conflict. And neither would I.” 

He tries to hide his clenched fists, but she notices. “What is it that I said that made you think this?”

“As long as we fight,” she repeats, “we will never be free.” 

He is staring at her with incredulity. Again she's rendered him speechless. Damn it. There's still hope on her face, but it is slowly dying. The bitterness in his chest feels like the ashes of his own hope.

“I think, Rey,” he says, “you should leave.”

There are tears in her eyes. “Ben—”

“ _Kylo_.” 

She stands as if to go and he is _not_ expecting the rush of the Force that crashes over him and renders him largely immobile. Panic spins in his chest. “ _Rey_ ,” he hisses.

“I'm right,” she says confidently. “I know I'm right.”

“Arrogance is of the dark side.”

“My point exactly.” She reaches to her hips, where her saber should be, but when she brushes aside her tunic, he sees it's not there, and why is she—?

Oh.

Oh, that's so patently _unfair_.

“Don't do this,” he begs.

“You don't want to see me naked, _Kylo Ren_?”

“That's _not_ what I mean.”

She _hmmphs_ a little and keeps untying her pants. Then she starts removing the straps of her tunic. The reason he can't look away has nothing to do with the Force freeze. “You're going to touch me,” she asserts.

“If I start to touch you,” he replies through gritted teeth, “I am _never_ going to stop.”

She smiles a little. “Good.”

He tries to push against her Force freeze—it's not that strong—but then he wonders if he even should. If he gets loose he will _have_ to touch her. _Have to_. What will happen to him? To his Empire? To everything he's sacrificed?

She removes the little fabric covering her breasts and the cleft of her, and she stands there. She looks terrified, to be honest. But she is _so beautiful_ , every scar, every dip and crest and inch of skin he can see. Perfect. Perfect perfect perfect.

_As long as we fight we will never be free._

He breaks free with a roar.

Strides once, twice over to her, and then—

 _Yes_. He doesn't hesitate. He can't. His hands fit at her sides, over her hips, over her breasts. Her small mouth presses at his and the Force around them is singing again, the way it did when they touched before. Her hands rip impatiently at his clothing. He wants to help, honestly, but how can he when that means he'd have to stop touching her? The second where she lifts his tunic over his head, when he has to stop kissing her, is the longest second of his wretched life. She tears his gloves off last and her skin feels even better.

Rey's hand slips onto his cock, and how many times has he dreamed of this? He moves his mouth to her neck, reaches between her legs, and he can't help whispering, “You're so wet for me.” The spike of arousal he feels in their connection hits him hard. “Does my voice do that to you?” he asks, mouth still on her neck. She shivers against him and the bond itself seems to shimmer. This woman might still be the death of him. Her hand, her lips, her mouth, her scent, she _wants_ him, she's—

“Now,” is all she can say as a reply, and he knows what she means. She lays back on the floor, hand slipping onto his to pull him down with her.

“Rey,” he admits, feeling sheepish, “I've never...”

“I haven't either.” She doesn't look as shy, though. She reaches for his cock, and he exhales hard as her thumb slides under the ridge. No way is he going to finish like this, so he grips his cock and pushes forward and—

She is _everything_ , this woman. The feeling of her body under him, around him, is so unspeakably good, but there's something else. Something that happens as she pushes his hair back into place and smiles at him, eyes dreamy and soft. Something invisible, something only they feel, is moving, restructuring, changing. Every time he moves his hips, feels her tighten around him, the whole universe moves.

The light meets the dark.

Passion meets peace.

There is no struggle where there is acceptance.

One of Rey's hands moves to his chest, to his heart. The other is circling her clit, and he helps, clumsily using the Force to vibrate lightly against her. She arches hard into him and he doesn't care how close he is; he _has_ to make her come.

“I feel it,” she says, voice as gentle as her gaze. “I feel it leaving me. Leaving you.”

“The conflict,” he says, barely a question. It's there, too, under her fingers, around them. Cradling them like a cloud. They're safe.

“I—” she starts breathlessly, but she can't finish before she's spasming hard, clenching him, shaking, and he comes instantly, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Her name is on his mouth, a mouth she's kissing before he can refocus.

He lays on his back, lets her snuggle into him, her head on his chest, one leg over his.

“You tricked me,” he accuses, unseriously.

“I did no such thing,” she replies, tone just as light.

They fall asleep like that.

Their perfect, complete bond isn't the only reason he feels so peaceful.

* * *

The last time he awoke to the sun in his eyes, he was barely a teenager. He groans a little, and just like that, the moment he's cognizant, Rey's in his head. She's walking back from the fresher.

“Oh.”

He opens his eyes and looks up at her, half-dressed and gorgeous, and sees through his eyes, but also her own.

The light is on his face. On his skin. In his heart.

This is the moment Rey foresaw in her vision.

This is the moment Kylo Ren dies.

* * *

His comes true too, but it's months later. Months of peace treaties and restructuring, restitution, renegotiations, _reuniting with his mother_ , and only then does Rey start to think that _maybe_ she can be at his side. Maybe. She visits his flagship and she's wearing a beautiful long white tunic, gathered with white straps like the binding he saw all that time ago. It makes him a little crazy just to think of it.

As much privacy as their bond gives them, as easy and endless as their thoughts are, he hasn't been alone with her for too long. He just wants to touch her. Just a little. He looks at her a bit too long and only just stops himself from brushing her hair away from her face. It's a motion they trade back and forth. She starts to smile at him, but she stops. Her eyes are looking over his shoulder.

It's fascinating to feel her use the Force when they're connected, like a pulse under his fingertips. She runs past him and has a man to the ground, lightsaber at his throat, before he can even turn. In the air is a frozen blaster bolt, shimmering. 

He sweeps over and he is choking the man before he can think anything of it. “How dare you try to kill Rey—” he seethes.

Rey looks at him. “He wasn't trying to kill me,” she says, as though it should be obvious. “He was trying to kill you.”

It clicks into place just like Rey's vision had.

Warrior, protector, ruler. All at once. Simultaneously overwhelmed, he releases his chokehold, and Rey loses her control over the blaster bolt.

The guards come and take the man to be held before his trial. An actual, fair trial, though the evidence is quite clear.

In his chambers, he finally gets Rey onto his bed for real.

This time, she sits on top like the empress she so clearly is.

This time, she tells him she loves him.

This time, Ben knows Rey will not go.

Not again.

Not ever.


End file.
